


this is where you zip it, alright?

by AliceCasch



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Protective Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceCasch/pseuds/AliceCasch
Summary: "Mr Stark, what was the motive behind this decision to open a new division?", the man asks."I think I've said it before: my goal is to make healthcare more affordable.""Yes, but besides that?"Peter, seated a few rows ahead, wrinkles his forehead in confusion.What does this man want Mr Stark to say?***or; Tony and Peter go to a gala dinner and an interviewer asks a nasty question. Peter saves the day.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 165
Collections: Peter Parker's Tales, The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	this is where you zip it, alright?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeekintheCorner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekintheCorner/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy this <3

Peter's insides start to feel like they’re playing a particularly intense game of Twister the moment the car stops in front of the venue. He squeezes his eyes shut, just for a second, and he savors the darkness he sees the way an inmate on death row would savor his last meal. He opens his eyes and exhales softly. His legs are shaking: he prays that they won't give out when he exits the car. When he's almost sure he won't become slime on the pavement, he turns to Mr Stark, who is sitting next to him and decidedly does not look two seconds away from throwing up. He puts together something that should vaguely resemble a smile, and he hopes that it conveys “I’m fine, I’m definitely not dying of anxiety right now”. He'd say the words if his tongue didn't feel like cardboard. For now, Mr Stark will have to do the talking. The man is looking at him with soft eyes, ones that would normally worry Peter: it’s the “oh, Peter, you sweet summer child” stare, and it is either the bearer of bad news or reserved for times Tony realizes Peter is, in fact, a sixteen-year-old. Peter thinks this is one of the rare circumstances in which the stare is appropriate. He _does_ feel a bit like a sweet summer child, because how in hell did he think it'd be a good idea to accept an invite to a _gala_ of all things?

Oh, right. Mr Stark said it would be a great opportunity.

 _Yeah, a great opportunity to embarrass yourself in front of very important people!_ A tiny, snarky, evil part of him replies. He tries to squash it, but the idea lingers in his head like a particularly annoying fly around food.

Before his inner dialogue can go any further, Mr Stark calls him. Once. Then twice. Three times. Peter wants to move, he wants to get out of the car, but all his limbs are made of granite and he's sitting on quicksand. He's sinking and sinking and sinking and _May, I love you and Ned, I love you and MJ, I've had a crush on you since freshman year and—_

Wait. He's not sinking anywhere. Mr Stark's hand is on his shoulder now. He can feel the leather of the car seats under him and the cold air that enters from the cracked window. He hears a car alarm in the distance. Peter wets his lips. His voice cracks when he tries to talk, so he clears his throat. Finally, he says, "Yes, Mr Stark?"

Thankfully, Tony catches on his silent pleas not to mention anything that happened in the last few minutes. Instead, he asks, "Are you ready, kid?" Peter nods.

Together, the two get out of the car. Tony's hand is on Peter's back, and the kid suddenly understands how teenagers in coming-of-age movies feel. He’s a painter and the world is his blank canvas. He can conquer it. He has everything handled.

* * *

Peter _cannot_ conquer the world, and he absolutely does _not_ have everything handled. The thing is, this venue is much bigger than he expected. Peter stops in the hall. The ceiling is high and there are more windows than he can count, but Peter feels trapped. For a moment, the world spins. He sees the giant chandelier fall and shatter on the ground. The noise is deafening. The floor and the ceiling get closer and closer to each other, and Peter is between them, and he’s going to get squished. Spider-Man is going to die like a spider.

Peter blinks. The world is not spinning, but he tastes copper and bile. His hand instinctively goes to the left pocket of his dress pants. There, written nearly on a page from his English folder, lies all his wisdom.

Well, kinda.

He doesn’t know if the speech contains all of his wisdom, but he’s sure he has poured his heart and soul into it. After all, attending a gala to present something you designed doesn’t happen every day. Peter’s mind starts racing, because for some reason his brain decides to remind him that there are about a million things that could go wrong tonight. What if he suddenly loses the ability to talk and stands there gaping like a fish? What if someone films him that clip of him gaping becomes viral and he’s dubbed “the fishy intern” by the media? What if he trips on the way to the stage? What if there’s a bomb in the venue and he can’t save everyone? What if he has to reveal himself as Spider-Man to do something?

Peter steels himself. He won’t go there. Not tonight. There’s enough to be worried about without coming up with even more horrible scenarios. What is his mind, Anxiety Prime? He’d very much like to unsubscribe. It’s the worst streaming service ever. He gives it zero stars out of five on Yelp. It decidedly does not slap. He pinches his forearm, just to get rid of any remaining world-spinnings and bombs and gapings, and after what feels like an eternity (but probably isn’t, because he thinks that otherwise Mr Stark would’ve said something), he starts walking.

When Peter asks, Mr Stark says that people at galas eat and mingle and get to show off their fancy dresses, and eat and mingle and show off fancy dresses they do. They talk to people of which Peter forgets the name and face immediately after they part ways (Tony _lives_ for the faces Peter makes after he casually mentions, “oh, by the way, that was the owner of a Fortune 500 company.” He doesn’t know how the kid manages not to spit his water after he nudges him and whispers, “see that girl over there, Pete? She’s the princess of Montecarlo. When she was twelve, she built her own robot. I’ve heard she has a killer sense of humor.” Peter’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, and Tony can’t resist. With a slight raise of his eyebrows, he adds, “You wanna go make a new friend?”. This time, Peter nearly chokes. He tries —and fails— to level Tony with a glare. The man only ruffles his hair in response.)

* * *

Mr Stark told him that he'd feel better if he spoke first. "Sometimes you gotta rip off the band-aid, kid", he said, and at the time, it actually seemed a pretty good idea. Now, every single inch of him is screaming its disagreement. Peter's stomach churns, and he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants to hide the shaking. He gets up, feeling hundreds of stares burning little holes in his back. Peter starts walking, glaring at his feet as if he could open a crevice that would swallow him whole. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen, and the teen slowly lifts his gaze. His feet are moving of their own accord: Peter is there, but he's not really there. He's floating away. He's a puppet and the puppeteer has cut all his strings. He's swinging, but the next skyscraper is too far away. He's stuck in the moment before the carriage drops down on a rollercoaster like a cockroach in amber.

He isn’t really sure how, but he makes it to the podium. He unfolds his speech and smoothes the crinkles in the paper. He wets his lips, taps on the mic. And then he rips off the band-aid. "Good evening," he says, "my name is Peter Parker and I intern at Stark Industries. Today, SI is opening a new division called Stark Health. Over the past few months, I helped Mr Stark develop a line of noise-cancelling headphones at an affordable price. l have been one of the many people who struggle to afford health insurance or proper treatments. The right to healthcare is a human right, and it should not have to depend on one's wealth. This is Stark Industries’ first step towards a brighter and safer future. Thank you." As he returns to his seat and the polite clapping gradually dies down, Peter lets out a proud smile. He feels lighter than ever. Mr Stark squeezes his shoulder. "Great speech, kid", he murmurs.

After that, it’s Mr Stark’s turn. "Mr Parker said it better than I ever could", Tony begins, "healthcare has to become more affordable. Stark Industries will start. Recently, I built a pair of leg braces for my good friend James Rhodes. In two weeks, they'll be available to the general public, and they won't cost more than 20 dollars. We are developing more products to ensure _everyone_ has access to what they need. Any questions?" He points to a journalist in the far corner of the room.

"Mr Stark, what was the motive behind this decision to open a new division?", the man asks.

"I think I've said it before: my goal is to make healthcare more affordable."

"Yes, but besides that?"

Peter, seated a few rows ahead, wrinkles his forehead in confusion. _What does this man want Mr Stark to say?_ He sees the shadow of a frown settle on his mentor's face, but it's gone in the blink of an eye.

"There is no ulterior motive", Tony says coolly, and everything from his tensed shoulders to his death glare suggests that this would be a great moment to shut up and let the other journalists ask their questions.

The man doesn't get the memo. "Mr Rhodes was paralyzed after the fight in Germany. Are you sure it doesn't have anything to do with the recent pardoning of the Rogue Avengers?"

Tony clenches his jaw and he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. Before he can say anything, though, Peter is up from his seat and headed towards the podium. The kid has a strange look in his eyes, and it takes Tony a moment to realize it’s _fury_.

"What are you doing, kid?", he whispers as soon as Peter arrives next to him. The teen ignores him and says, "I'm sorry, what are you trying to imply? That Mr Stark decided to create a new division to accelerate the pardoning? That it was all planned, a political and strategic move? Because if that's the case, you're talking to the wrong person, buddy. Mr Stark does not mix politics and things of his own personal interest with projects that could actually help people. He has been protecting us since 2008: I think it's about time we stop over-analyzing everything he does and actually thank him for once". Peter pauses, glaring at the journalist. "Besides, the Accords were more than two years ago. You really couldn't find _anything_ else to attack him with? Come on, I'm sure you can do better than that. It's getting a bit boring, you know." He ends with a smirk.

Peter turns to Tony. He’d laugh if he wasn’t still fuming: the man has a completely blank expression, but his are the eyes of someone who’s seen too much. The teen gives him a tentative smile and he strides down the corridor. As he passes the journalist he gives him a small wave, and it takes everything in him to avoid bursting in laughter when the man flinches.

Peter manages not to get lost inside the venue, and soon he can feel the cold air on his flushed cheeks. Tony still hasn’t said anything. The two stay silent for a while, and naturally, Anxiety Prime makes a reappearance. _What if I stepped out of line? It was not my place to say anything. I should have stayed silent. Why do I always have to speak? Now Mr Stark is mad. He’ll probably never want to see me again._

Peter doesn’t notice he’s biting his lower lip until he tastes blood. Finally, he racks up the courage to speak. "Mr Stark?", he asks hesitantly.

"Yeah, Pete?"

“Are you mad at me?”

Tony scoffs. “Of course not, kid.”

Peter shuffles his feet. “Oh. Cool.”

A moment passes. “Mr Stark?”

The man hums.

"I think it'd be better if I didn't go to galas for a while."

Tony doesn't answer, but Peter can see the glimmer of a smile in the dark.

Later, when they’re sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them and a movie playing softly in the background, Tony says, “Hey, Pete?”

"Yeah?"

"I never thanked you. That answer was pretty badass."

"Well," Peter laughs, "he deserved it."

* * *

The next day, Peter wakes up to find his phone blown up with text messages sent by Ned. 

**10.59 AM:** dude

 **10.59 AM:** dude

 **11.00 AM:** dude

 **11.00 AM:** dUDE

 **11.01 AM:** dude check twitter

 **11.02 AM:** no pete seriously buzzfeed tweeted about you!!!

 **11.02 AM:** the clip of you murdering that journalist is viral now

 **11.03 AM:** Peter youre TWITTER FAMOUS

 **11.03 AM:** WAIT DOES THAT MEAN IM FAMOUS BY PROXY??????

 **11.04 AM:** look

 **11.05 AM:** [a tweet from BuzzFeed that says: SI's intern Peter Parker defends Tony Stark: "[He] has been protecting us since 2008: I think it's time we stop over-analyzing everything he does and actually thank him for once"]

 **11.06 AM:** [a tweet from user @alixx that says "current mood: peter parker telling a journalist that his questions are boring"]

 **11.06 AM:** dude they meme’d you???!!!!!!!!!

**11.06 AM:**

**11.07 AM:**

Peter laughs and types up a response.

 **11.08 AM:** ned, im spider-man

 **11.08 AM:** i am already famous

 **11.09 AM:** and yes

 **11.09 AM:** you are famous by proxy

He tosses the phone on the bed and gets up, and then he does a backflip because _holy fuck he’s internet famous_.

 **11.24 AM:** NED!!!!!! IM ON BUZZFEED!!!!!!!

 **11.24 AM:**

**11.25 AM:** tfw you realize buzzfeed tweeted about you

“Hey, May?”, he calls.

“Yes, Pete?”

“BuzzFeed tweeted about me”

“That’s nice, honey.”

Uh. Well, that reaction is...disappointing. And then it clicks.

“As Peter Parker, not Spider-Man!”, he specifies.

“ _What the fu—?!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking with me 'till the end!! Comments and kudos always make my day, so scream at me down below if you wish!  
> (you can see the tweets and the memes [here](https://alicecasch.tumblr.com/post/630694884998807552/this-is-where-you-zip-it-alright))


End file.
